


Mother Dear

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Series: NaNoWriMo 2015 [15]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5350175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anduin takes Wrathion to meet his mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother Dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Itsjez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsjez/gifts).



“I’m still not entirely certain this is a good idea, Anduin Wrynn…”  
“It’ll be fine! My mother’s lovely.”  
“Whether your mother is lovely or not is not the thing I’m calling into question!”  
“She knows you’re Katrana’s nephew, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
“Well-- yes, a _bit_.”  
“And that we’re dating.”  
“ _Augh_! Why did you _tell_ her that?!”  
“Because I wanted her to know!” Anduin laughed light-heartedly, but Wrathion could only feel dread in his heart. “It’s going to be fine. Now, c’mon, this is our stop.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Wrathion got off the train, and followed Anduin on the short walk up to his mother’s house.

It was a small bungalow near the top of the hill in their moderately-sized seaside town; it didn’t exactly have an _uninterrupted_ view to the sea, but one could easily see it on the horizon as one walked up the isolated driveway. The hill seemed a little tough on Anduin’s legs, and they stopped to rest several times; perhaps that was the only reason Anduin didn’t visit her very often, and not, as Wrathion truly still feared, that she was actually a horrible old hag. Parents had a habit of being like that in his experience.

She answered the door.

She was shorter than Anduin, but not by much - both of them still towered over Wrathion. The work-clothes she was wearing - baking, by the looks of things - were baggy on her frame, but Wrathion could see her bare arms were quite muscular indeed. She had the same blonde hair as he did, but hers was shaved into an undercut, and the remainder was much thicker and less straight than Anduin’s. And she was _grinning_.

“Anduin!” She reached out, grabbed him, and hugged him _tight_. She even lifted him off the ground a little bit. Wrathion tensed and took a step back as Anduin made noises of mock-embarrassment; she set him back down on the ground, then turned to Wrathion, spreading her arms wide.

He raised one hand and waved in a restrained enough manner that he hoped she would take the hint. And, mercifully, she seemed to. “You must be Wrathion!” she beamed. “Do come in! I’m Tiffin. Anduin’s told me all about you--”  
“I’m sure he has,” he said, in a small voice.  
“Only good things,” she winked, then - on looking at Anduin - swore loudly. “I need to get changed! Light, I got dust all over you already. Anduin, take him through to the kitchen and make him a cup of tea, won’t you? I’ll be down in just a second.”  
“Yes, Mama.” Anduin smiled gently to Wrathion as his mother trotted through to the back room, slamming the door shut.

Anduin did as he was told, dancing (as best he could with his cane, anyway) around the messy kitchen and making small talk - which Wrathion didn’t reciprocate - as he filled the kettle and fetched the things down from the cupboard. Making tea for guests was a ritual that Anduin had actually picked up from Wrathion and his carers, but evidently he’d propagated it to the rest of the family, too - Wrathion might have thought they were just doing it to make him feel at home, but there were more teabags there than could be excused by courtesy alone. The box was well-used, and the container for the sugar was both large and half-empty. These were things which had been in this kitchen, and in regular use, for a while.

He hugged himself a little. Was he overreacting?

“Anduin, sweetheart, would you come through here a second?” came Tiffin’s voice through the thin walls of the bungalow. Anduin sang back that he was coming, then apologised to Wrathion before trotting through to talk to his mother.

They were ten minutes, and when they were done, they both marched through the kitchen and out of the back door with just a quick acknowledgement of Wrathion. What was this about? He frowned and sipped his tea, and vaguely considered walking back to the train station.

Finally, Anduin’s mother poked her head back around the back doorframe and grinned to Wrathion. “We were just setting up outside. Wanna come sit with us?”  
“...” Wrathion stared at her. “...sure.”

He did so, nervously stepping out onto the patio.

It was cool outside, but sunny, and Tiffin had set up a patio table with two chairs and a sun-lounger around it. The sun-lounger was Anduin’s, obviously, as it allowed him to rest his bad foot and take the weight off his prosthetic; but Tiffin had placed the chairs either side of it, allowing Wrathion to sit himself down with Anduin between himself and this bizarrely friendly stranger. She excused herself again once he was settled, and Wrathion only gave Anduin a nervous glance - met by a reassuring smile - before she reappeared with a plate of pastries.

“Anduin told me you like these,” she beamed, in an expression which Wrathion disorientatingly recognised most closely from her son’s face. “So I thought I’d make some. Here, help yourself.”

He stared between her and the plate of pastries as it was set on the patio table.

“Anduin and I had a little chat about how to make you feel more comfortable this afternoon,” she continued as she sat down - her expression losing its irreverence, but her smile not fading. “So I’ll let you know. I’m not going to touch you unless you want me to, and I’m not going to shout at you. The plan is we eat pastries and drink tea and chat, then either head inside to watch television or head into town to catch a movie, whatever we feel like. You don’t have to answer any of my questions if you don’t want to, and I’m not going to ask you about anything personal.” She smiled at him; he stared at her. “Alright?”

“Y…” He felt a lump in his throat suddenly, and he stared at Anduin, who gave a gentle - slightly sheepish - smile in return. “Yes,” he eventually said - then buried his face in his cup of tea.

She was so… _nice_.

Must be where Anduin got it from, he finally concluded, as he - at last - decided to reach for one of the pastries.


End file.
